


Love's Labor Found Out

by misura



Category: The Grand Sophy - Georgette Heyer
Genre: Background Relationships, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 14:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17082047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: "I suppose there's not much to be done, now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak," said Sir Vincent.Augustus considered the poetic potential of a bagged cat and found little inspiration therein. Moreover, based on his admittedly limited experience with said animals, he did not think any cat would willingly be put in such a state. There would be yowling and scratching and hissing and much unpleasantness.





	Love's Labor Found Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meretricula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meretricula/gifts).



> sadly, Sancia turned out to be too lazy to put in an appearance, but I hope you'll still enjoy this
> 
> happy Yuletide!

The significant success of Augustus Fawnhope's latest contribution to the lofty world of literature came as somewhat of a surprise to a number of notables, including the author.

"But of course the daffodil is a most agreeable flower," opined said author, when cornered by one of the principals in what was being hailed across town as the most shockingly exciting thing to have come along since Lord Byron's last offering, quite unsuitable for the eyes and ears of anyone with the least pretensions of civilization.

(Not two days ago, a representative of the publisher's house had come around to beg an audience and, when granted this favor, to mention the option of a second printing, free of charge, which favor Augustus had seen fit to declare he would take into consideration, for, as he told Sir Vincent, "one cannot rush art".)

That same gentleman now found himself agreeing that, indeed, daffodils were most fetching. "And if you had seen fit to write a bunch of poetry about them, why, I wouldn't have objected in the least."

Augustus blinked. Evidently, the thought that anyone might find anything at all objectionable in his poetry had not previously been introduced into his world. Now that it had, however, going by the expression on his face, he did not find it at all to his liking.

Nevertheless, Sir Vincent being quite dear to him, he limited his verbal response to a simple and not particularly poetic, "I should hope not."

Sir Vincent found this reply, while acceptable, also somewhat lacking in pertaining to the matter he had come to pursue. "Well," he said. "So you see the problem, then, I trust? At the least - at the very least," he went on, "you might have warned a man."

Augustus looked about him somewhat vaguely, in evident expectation of finding aforementioned person lurking in the shadows. Upon finding no one there, he appeared rather relieved.

"My dear Vincent," he said, having found this phrase possessing a near-magical ability to smooth over any small problems and conflicts such as might arise when three people of wildly varied dispositions shared a household.

"Don't you 'my dear Vincent' me," said Sir Vincent, not to be soothed so easily.

Augustus nodded agreeably, pleased to be able to restore the peace with such a small concession on his part. He refrained from saying that while certain phrases were of such pleasantness that he felt obliged to repeat them often, he did not count this particular one among them. Rather, he had observed that Sir Vincent appeared to respond to it positively.

As Sir Vincent had failed to do so now, cutting the phrase from his vocabulary felt like no great loss.

"Well?" said Sir Vincent.

Augustus felt a comparison between Sir Vincent and an animal of some sort, or perhaps a flower, float just outside the reaches of his conscious mind. He waited patiently for it to become more clear.

Sir Vincent frowned, but he did not speak again.

Augustus took this to mean that he had been understood. All was well. If daffodils might not be found outside this very moment, at least he might find inspiration in the company indoors, the magnificence of the house, the certainty of as yet unfound treasures still awaiting his unearthing them in the library. A poet's life might be difficult at times, the sacrifices required many and the monetary rewards few (although naturally, one could not put any significance on such things).

Still, in moments such as these, he keenly felt how blessed he had been.

"I suppose there's not much to be done, now that the cat's out of the bag, so to speak," said Sir Vincent.

Augustus considered the poetic potential of a bagged cat and found little inspiration therein. Moreover, based on his admittedly limited experience with said animals, he did not think any cat would willingly be put in such a state. There would be yowling and scratching and hissing and much unpleasantness.

(He was chagrined to realize that he would not be composing a quick few stanzas on the close resemblance Sir Vincent bore to a now doomed to remain unknown animal or flower after all. Though, upon consideration of the matter, it might also have been a tree or possibly even an architectural feature. Did Sir Vincent perhaps resemble a Corinthian column? Alas, that the world would never know.)

Sir Vincent sighed, some of the anger having seeped out of him. "I suppose it simply slipped your mind to give a fellow a heads up?"

As Augustus had not the least notion of which Sir Vincent was speaking, he decided that an agreeable nod might very well do the trick of placating Sir Vincent yet further. An outright lie, and to a person held in such close affection, would have been repugnant in the extreme, yet a nod might (and indeed would) be taken to mean all sorts of things.

"Nothing for it now but to weather the storm, what?" went on Sir Vincent. "At least it'll be bringing in some lucre. Not that we're hard up, mind - not in the least! Still, one can never have too much, and I expect you'll be quite pleased to feel as though you've put some bread on the table, eh?"

"The bread in this house is superior to all other bread in London," stated Augustus, feeling very strongly that this was a truth beyond assailing. "Possibly even to all other bread in England. It is like manna."

Sir Vincent bestowed upon him a certain look. "I'm sure the cook will be pleased to hear it."

Augustus vainly tried to summon up an image, then abandoned the effort as doomed and inefficient besides. Having spoken, he felt certain that Sir Vincent would convey his statement to any person in need to have it shared with them. Sir Vincent was most efficient and an excellent friend.

" 'As the rooster the sun greets, thus my friend my needs meets.' " Augustus frowned. The superfluous rhyme of 'needs' displeased him.

"To be compared to a cock, and in my own house, no less!" Sir Vincent shook his head.

" 'While any man may flatter, it is the close friend who will speak of things that matter'."

"It might be a bit late to be rhyming about friendship," said Sir Vincent. "You publish that, and everyone will be saying we've had a falling-out or the like, and what a bother that would cause, I shouldn't like to think. Why, someone might even get it into their head that you were looking to move house, and then where would we be? Oh, I can picture it now. Poor Sancia beside herself with worry and you wandering the streets in blissful ignorance, with not the least notion of how to make your way back, or feed yourself or stay out of the rain. No! It simply will not do, my Adonis."

"This house pleases me excessively," declared Augustus.

"Oh, well, as long as it's the house that pleases you. I'm sure I shouldn't feel slighted in the least! After all," went on Sir Vincent in a somewhat depreciating tone, "it was not a volume of poetry on the house you saw fit to send to the publisher, was it?"

"I do not exactly remember," confessed Augustus.

"Indeed, why should you?" said Sir Vincent. "You're not the one having his most intimate details described to all the world!"

"I believe a piece regarding Lady Talgarth may have been included in the collection."

"Even better!"

This, at last, shook Augustus from his dream-like state. "My dear Vincent!" he said, forgetting for the moment Sir Vincent's forbidding him the future use of the phrase. "You must know that I hold you and Sancia equally in the highest possible regard! If any of my words or actions have given you cause to doubt this, then I can only say that you were mistaken. For which I forgive you, of course."

"I should hope so, yes," said Sir Vincent. For a moment, he looked as if he would say more, then he appeared to think better of such an undertaking. "It may be that we decide to relocate to Spain for a while. Sancia has expressed a desire to show you her homeland, or at least those parts of it familiar to her."

"Were you to go to the ends of the earth itself, willingly would I accompany you. Such is the power of love!" announced Augustus. "Hunger nor thirst nor any amount of discomfort, not even the threat of death may stop me."

"I expect the household will accompany us, including the cook who makes that bread you like so much," said Sir Vincent.

" 'Dear England, now our ways must part, it is to Spain I must, so bids my heart.' How soon must I be ready to depart? I should like to write down these lines. I feel they may make a fine beginning to an epic describing our journey. It shall be as our very own Odyssey."

"I rather hope we won't take quite so long as that," said Sir Vincent.

"One never knows!" said Augustus, optimistically. "We might get ship-wrecked."


End file.
